


Ardor

by GiftOfFire



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: 2edgy4me, Angst, Catra and Adora are endgame and you can not change my mind, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Slow Build, Violence, maybe i'll even let them smooch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-11 21:15:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16860436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiftOfFire/pseuds/GiftOfFire
Summary: Catra's ambition will come at a higher price than she can bear to pay.





	1. Bad Cat

_Even all husked-out and dead, this place gives me the creeps._

Catra limped across the partially frozen earth of the Whispering Wood, pushing dried branches out of her way. Scorpia followed wordlessly behind her. 

Well, almost wordlessly.

"Do you, uh, need some help with that? It looks...not right," Scorpia pointed a claw at Catra's left arm, which hung limply against her body. 

_Probably finish what Adora started and tear it right off._

Catra growled at the gesturing pincer. "No. Yes. Just don't make it worse," she spat. 

"I won't," Scorpia chuckled, Catra's hostility seeming to bounce off her. "Just lie down on the ground," she instructed. 

Catra complied. The cold ground soothed the scratches and nicks in her skin. The night sky above was brilliantly clear, the unhidden stars almost blinding. All traces of the Black Garnet's terrible influence were gone. 

Gently, the taller Force Captain knelt and grasped Catra's arm at the elbow in her claw. "I'm sorry if this hurts." 

"Just get it over with." 

Scorpia pulled Catra's arm over her head slowly. The dislocated joint regained traction in its socket with a wet click. Catra's face pulled in to a snarl at the sickening sensation, but otherwise accepted the impromptu field dressing without complaint. She sprang to her feet, her shoulder still burning, but otherwise fixed. 

"Do you need me to—" Scorpia began as she rose slowly. 

"No. Whatever it is, no," Catra snapped. 

Scorpia smiled faintly. "Okay, Catra. Just be careful."

 _Don't smile at me!_ Catra wanted to scream. It took all of her restraint not to drag her claws across Scorpia's face. She couldn't stand the former princess' insistence on treating her like a friend. 

 _Princess_. Catra scowled at the word. Everything she'd learned about princesses over the years had turned out to be true after Adora's defection and the Battle for Brightmoon. 

 

They were meddling. 

Had dangerous, uncontrollable power. 

And, above all, they were ruthless in protecting their interests. 

 

At the very least, Scorpia only met the first two criteria. Horde conditioning and her easy-going personality made her a worthy and seemingly loyal Force Captain, mostly. _But that water chick? Glitter-Shimmer-Whatever? Even Entrapta._ _They're all just doing what they do for themselves._  

"I'm going to go back to the Fright Zone on my own. You lead the survivors, I need to...cool off," Catra called behind her, not bothering to face Scorpia. If her comrade answered, she didn't hear it. Heedless of the pain in her body or the fatigue in her legs, she ran across the destroyed clearing and in to the shattered treeline. 

This is all her fault. Adora. She-Ra. Whoever she was now after befriending a bunch of princesses. 

 _And she has the nerve to ask me to leave everything I have to join her! To be her sidekick!_ Catra thought back to how Adora had looked at her in the First One's ruins. That familiar mixture of pity and concern. The same look she would see on Scorpia's face all too often. The highlight reel of their shared memories confirmed what Catra had come to suspect of her former friend—she only ever cared about Catra to make herself feel like a hero. 

“That’s not true,” a hoarse, disembodied voice whispered.

Catra's step faltered and she stopped abruptly. She was surrounded by stripped trees and flattened bush. The Whispering Wood was mostly dead; but did some of its magic still linger? 

"Who's there?" she meant to sound threatening. Instead she sounded uncertain and afraid.

Nothing but the echo of her voice answered her. Her brow furrowed and her ears flattened against her head. "She doesn't care! Not about me, or us, or a-anything!" Catra's shout cracked in to a dry sob. She squeezed her eyes shut against the threat of her tears. 

When she opened them, she didn't have time to react to the mass of twigs and bristles rushing towards her face. 

"What the—" she managed before catching the full impact across her jaw, sending her reeling to the ground. 

"Bad kitty! Get out of here!" An old crone, stooped over in her age, raised her spindly arms to strike again with her weapon—a broom. 

Catra didn't stay down for long. Growling, she caught the next strike of the old woman's broom in her hands. "Listen, old lady," she started, unsheathing her claws and tensing to strike.   

"Oh, dearie me. You're not a bad kitty at all," the old woman cut her off again, yanking her broom from Catra's grip with surprising strength. "What's the matter, kitten? Are you lost?" 

Catra took a closer look at her opponent. Thick yellow spectacles magnified the old woman's beady eyes. An unkempt mane of hair not unlike her own framed her thin face. Except for the broom, she was thoroughly harmless. Catra sheathed her claws. 

"No. Just passing through," she answered curtly, dusting herself off. "Well, I'd better go." She didn't take more than a step forward before she felt a sharp tug at the base of her tail.

"Then why were you screaming at the trees? Not like they can scream back. Even when they were alive, they never shouted the way you just did," the old woman was holding on to the tip of Catra's tail. 

"Hey! Let go! I'm not here to talk to you, or the trees, or anyone!" the Force Captain shrieked, frantically trying to yank her tail out of the woman's hands.

"I'm just saying," the old woman relented, releasing Catra's tail, "that the only voices you'll hear now are mine and yours. And when you're alone, it'll only be yours." 

"What's that supposed to mean? How do you know I'm not a bad cat after all?" she growled. 

The crone laughed heartily. "Because! If you were as bad as you look, dearie," she reached up with a withered hand to flick one of Catra's twitching ears, "you would have torn me and my poor broom to shreds with those claws of yours before I could say a word." 

Catra swatted the woman's hand away and folded her arms across her chest. "There's still plenty of time for shredding. Who are you, anyway? And can I go now?" 

The old woman sighed. "All you young ladies that come to visit have been so impatient lately. At least you're nicer than the last cat I met, years and years ago." She made a shooing motion with her broom. "Go on, go!" 

"Whatever," Catra grumbled, tossing her head contemptuously and pushing by the woman to continue her aimless journey back to the Fright Zone. 

_Even when the magic here is gone, something weird just HAS to happen. And what did she mean about "you young ladies?" Wait, was Adora here?_

"Hey, hold on a second—" Catra spun around, but once again she was alone. The old woman was nowhere in sight. 

"Ugh! I hate this place!" she stamped her foot on the ground and lashed her tail. She charged blindly through the Wood, ignoring the branches that whipped in her face or the painful roots poking at her feet. 

 _Adora_. Even in her thoughts, the name set her heart ablaze with fury.

_You should have kept pretending to care about me. I don't want to have to kill you, I just—_

A particularly gnarled tree root caught Catra's foot and sent her flying forwards. She landed on her recently relocated shoulder, sending a bolt of agony through the joint and down her arm.

"That's not true." 

Her own voice. Her own words, barely audible. Catra didn’t bother to pick herself off the ground.

"That's not true," Catra repeated, curling tightly in on herself. 

_There's no going back after what I've done. I need to show her—everyone—that I'm more than just...Catra._

Her chest ached. She drifted off to a fitful sleep, the tip of her tail twitching. 


	2. Hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manifestation of Catra's ambition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little too edgy even for me, but I wanted to give a little nod to Catra's "panther transformation" in the old show as well as give a really big nod to Berserk. This is as grimdark as I dare to go.

No pleasant dream, this.

She was facing She-Ra in the Battle for Brightmoon again.

“I’m not letting you get away, Catra!” She-Ra said in Adora’s voice. She refused to reconcile the two, refused to accept that She-Ra and Adora were one and the same.

In her dream Catra wasn’t exhausted. She dodged She-Ra’s charge effortlessly. By the time She-Ra had turned to attack again she was already in the air, throwing her full weight on her opponent’s chest. They fell and She-Ra was gone—only Adora was pinned beneath her.

Catra lodged her knees over Adora’s arms and grinned at her furious face. “See? You can’t win, not for long. C’mon, Adora,” Catra placed her hand on her friend’s throat, “give up already. Tell you what: forget this whole thing. Forget the Horde, forget the Rebellion. Let’s just run away together.”

Angry tears pooled in Adora’s eyes. “Never,” she spat.

 _Even in my dreams she’s stubborn_.

Catra’s response was interrupted by movement in the corner of her eye, just to her left. She turned her head slowly, more curious than afraid.

An enormous shadowy cat—no, a panther—sat on its haunches, right next to Catra. She yelped, nearly toppling off of Adora in her terror.

_Shadow Weaver? How? It can’t be, she’s powerless without the Black Garnet!_

“What is it, Catra?” her former comrade said beneath her.

“Shadow Wea—” the panther had materialized right behind Adora’s head.

 ** _Not Shadow Weaver._** The cat had no discernible mouth for the words to come from. It looked to be made of more than the thin shadows the Horde sorceress used in her magic. There was a presence to the panther, a solidness to the blackness it was made of. Its eyes glowed the same red as the jewel in Adora’s sword.

“Then…what?” Catra questioned aloud.

“Catra…?” The hostility had evaporated from Adora’s face. Catra felt her hand fall from the young woman’s neck.

_Why does this feel so real?_

**_It could be._** Cold dread drenched Catra’s heart. Whatever it was, it could hear her thoughts.

_What are you?_

**_You will be powerful. You’ve already overthrown that pitiful magician and proven yourself to Lord Hordak._** Its voice was like splintering ice, splitting Catra’s head right between her eyes.

_I already know that, but what are you supposed to be?_

**_You don’t want Adora. You don’t need her to slow you down. There is only the promise of power and domination._** It lowered its massive head over Adora’s, partially obscuring it.

“Please, Catra, just tell me what’s goin—” Adora’s plea was cut off by an awful choking gasp, then silence.

 _Can my heart really be pounding if this is a dream?_ Catra’s eyes were wide with terror.

The panther tilted to look at her head-on. Adora’s throat was clamped between its jagged, yellowed teeth.

She couldn’t bring herself to look. Her eyes locked on to the cat’s instead. _No. Not this. Not like this._

 ** _It could be._** Catra squeezed her eyes shut.

_Wake up wake up wake up WAKE UP_

When she opened them again the cat had vanished. Catra dared to look down.

_Oh_

She saw everything in pieces, sequentially. Blue eyes that had dulled to grey. Blood trickling out of a broken nose. Cracked lips parted almost playfully in to something that could have been a laugh or a scream.

Catra’s fingers knuckle-deep in Adora’s neck, a torrent of blood staining her arms and tangles of rent flesh caught in her claws.

When Catra woke up in the still-dark Whispering Wood, she could feel her pulse slamming against her skull. She couldn’t scream—only a high-pitched kind of whistle would come out of her.

She drew up her knees as close as she could to her body and buried her face in her hands, trying to rub the images from the back of her eyelids.

She could smell blood underneath her claw tips.

Turns out Catra could scream after all.


	3. Out of the Whispering Wood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catra doesn't have a lot of time to self-reflect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Action is hard! I can't wait to slow the pace down a bit. Thank you for the lovely comments and kudos.

_I need to get out of here. This place is getting to me._

Catra's lingering terror at what she'd seen in her dream ( _nightmare? hallucination?_ ) had been almost immediately replaced by panic after her scream was answered by distant shouting and clanging metal.

Bright Moon's soldiers were combing the Whispering Wood for Horde stragglers, and they would find one if she didn't immediately return to the Fright Zone. 

She set her pace to a quick jog. All she needed to do was evade the search party. As long as the Bright Moon soldiers didn't know exactly where she was, she didn't have to exhaust herself any further.

It didn't take her long to retrace her steps back to where she had split up from Scorpia and the raid party, and following their tracks would be easy—when the Horde moved, it was rarely in secret. Deep furrows and churned earth from the Horde's war machines cut a clear path through the Whispering Wood.

She had barely stepped in to the clearing when a clear, authoritative voice commanded, "Stop!" from the other side.

Here we go. The voice belonged to an armored soldier who emerged from his hiding place behind a deadfall of trees. He approached Catra warily, the tip of his spear pointed at her chest.

"A Horde Force Captain. You have much to answer for," Catra couldn't see his face underneath his helmet, but she didn't need to guess how he might feel. _I'm hardly Bright Moon's favorite person right now._

"You want my answer?" Catra feigned disinterest and absentmindedly scratched an ear. "Alright."

She closed to distance between them, deftly sidestepping the spear-tip.

_You tin cans are always so slow._

The Brightmoon soldier stumbled backwards, trying to regain ground so he could jab with his spear. Catra let him take a few paces before dashing in again. The soldier stabbed forward.

She ducked under the jab, reaching up and grabbing the shaft. Her momentum and strength let her jerk the weapon from his hands. She rammed the butt of the spear home against the Brightmoon soldier's ridiculous winged helm, stunning him.

"Really? We lost to you guys? Geez, if it wasn't for your princesses, you'd all be dead," Catra taunted, twirling the spear while the soldier recovered from the strike.

"And if you Horde types weren't so fond of showboating, you'd be right," he growled. The unmistakable sound of thundering hooves followed his retort. The lone soldier's comrades had found them.

The smile evaporated from Catra's face. _Aw, crap._

She dropped her lazy stance and readied herself. Raising the spear sent waves of hot pain up through her shoulder. Catra narrowed her eyes and sized up her opponents—

_Four on horseback, plus the one on the ground. This won't be easy._

"Okay, I guess I'd better go," she quickly reversed her grip on the spear and loosed it at one of the riders. She sprinted past the unarmed soldier, shoving him to the ground. A pained cry behind her told her that the spear had found its mark.

_Three on horseback, now._

She ran parallel to the furrows in the ground left by the Horde, not daring to look behind her. She'd bought herself only a few precious seconds to start her escape.

The scouting party recuperated quickly, leaving the wounded soldier with the unarmed man and taking off after the fleeing Force Captain.

Just my luck! Catra gasped for air as she ran, her fatigue from the battle and the march home slowing her all too soon. She could hear the horses behind her. Desperately, she leapt up in to the air. If she could get up a tree, they'd have a harder time following her.

Her claws found a branch, but her body did not follow the motion. The weight and strain on her shoulder was too much—with a surprised yowl, she crashed to the ground. The horses were on her in seconds.

"Kitty fell out of a tree!" one of the soldiers scoffed. "Knock her out. This one will just slither out of whatever bonds you prepare." The other two dismounted, advancing on her prone body.

Raising herself half off the ground, Catra spat at the rider. "Make up your mind--am I a cat, or a snake?" She coiled her muscles to make a last-ditch pounce, but an armored boot connected with her stomach so hard it almost lifted her clean off the ground. She coughed, collapsing again to the floor.

"Now!" a familiar voice shouted.

Green light flared in Catra's half-closed eyes. She lifted her head, her gaze following the trail. The Horde had come back! Soon the air was thick with the smell of burnt ozone. Four Horde raiders were arranged in a firing squad, spooking the Brightmoon riders' horses and sending them tearing back in to the Wood.

"Catra!" Scorpia appeared seemingly out of nowhere, scooping her off the ground. For once, she didn't mind.

"I'm not even good at cooling off." It hurt to laugh.

"Lord Hordak is not gonna like this," Scorpia warned, rushing past the still-firing Horde soldiers to a small skiff.

"Let's just leave this part out of the report." It was hard enough to keep her eyes open, let alone speak.

"Do you need me to—" Scorpia started before Catra planted a finger on her lips.

"If the next words were, 'let Catra knock out,' then yes, that's exactly what I need."

Scorpia bowed her head to look at her fellow Force Captain. Most people looked small to Scorpia in comparison to her sheer size. Usually, Catra's force of will and larger-than-life personality made up for her stature. As she was now, she looked exactly like what she was—young, inexperienced, and completely out of juice. "That's exactly what I was going to say."

"Good." Catra didn't know if she actually said anything or not. The next time she woke up, it was to the mechanical hum of machines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'll stop knocking Catra unconscious at the end of these chapters.


	4. Getting Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora's gotta take it easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some lighter stuff after three straight chapters of beating Catra silly.

It was one thing to lift wagons off of broken wheels and kiss newborns. Facing down stoic eleven-year-old queens on a diplomatic mission, staging a secret rescue for political prisoners—it was all the same to Adora. Her new orders were a whole other challenge entirely.

Bedrest.

“We don’t need She-Ra to rebuild walls. Our stonemasons would go out of business if they didn’t make these repairs,” the Queen cast a sidelong glance down at Adora. 

“But, uh, what about morale?” Adora offered. Her awkward steps echoed through the winding halls of Castle Brightmoon as she tried to keep up with the longer stride of the Queen.

Queen Angella’s eyes softened imperceptibly. “Glimmer and I will be more than enough to raise the spirits of the Rebellion.”

“So that’s it, then? No more She-Ra?”

Angella paused. She looked down at Adora.

The young woman was heavily bandaged—from her head to her legs, swathes of cloth crisscrossed all over Adora’s body. She was dressed in a plain tunic while instead of her old Horde uniform. The only undamaged parts of her were her eyes: they still burned with the same stubborn determination as when she’d pledged herself to the Rebellion.

The Queen breathed a heavy sigh. “For now. We need you—She-Ra. And we need you at your best.”

Adora opened her mouth to argue, but stopped herself. “That makes sense. Thank you,” she said somewhat lamely.

“Please enjoy this...sabbatical, if you will. What lies ahead will leave little time for rest and leisure, Adora.” They came to a stop before a set of doors even taller than Queen Angella. She dismissed the warrior with a wave of her hand.

_So. Bedrest._

_Resting, in the bed._

_Lying down._

_Doing nothing._

Just...

Hanging out in her room with a friend.

"You're so bad at this," Bow laughed. "You're not even in the bed!" 

"I can't do this, Bow! I can't just not be doing things!" she sat cross-legged on the floor, picking at the plush rug they were lounging on together. 

The archer rolled his eyes. "It's been like, what, a week? And you're already itching to get back out to do She-Ra things? Cut yourself some slack," he put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. "You saved us. I thought...well, I thought that was the end. Of you, me, Glimmer...everything. What if we need you to do that again?" 

"Bow," she knew him chiefly for his bravery and good nature. Where had this come from? "Do you really think the Horde's going to get that close again?" 

His dark eyes met hers. "I think that was just the beginning." His grip on her shoulder was almost uncomfortably tight now.  

"Anyway," he released her. Adora felt strangely relieved. "Enough of the doom and gloom. We won! You won! But for real, get some rest. The goal is to feel better so you can get better," Bow smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. They were clouded with uncertainty. 

Adora forced a laugh. "Yeah, okay. I guess when you give me something to work towards, I can almost feel okay with just doing nothing all day. How have the meetings been? Does Glimmer regret everything yet?" 

"Oh,  _dude_ ," Bow gushed, "I've never seen her more miserable. I think she finally gets why her mom's a little, well, you know."

"Really?" Adora leaned in, her eyes practically sparkling with mirth. "Let me guess--Frosta." 

Gossip was always a great way to dissolve tension. 

"You got it—Frosta," the archer confirmed. "It's so confusing. She's so adorable, but so  _mean._  And Perfuma's just...a wreck. Y'know. About Entrapta." 

Or not.

Adora felt her heart sink. "I'll bet," she sighed. 

Bow shifted uncomfortably. "Honestly, Mermista is kind of the only one holding them all together. She's really stepped up." 

The Princess of Salineas. At the Battle of Bright Moon, she had looked like a totally different person, executing a flawless ambush and combining her powers with the other Princesses'. 

Adora tilted her head back, staring wistfully at the vaulted ceiling. "I wish I could have gone to today's meeting with Glimmer. I haven't seen her all day. And a quick 'hi' in morning doesn't count." 

"I'll make sure to tell her you said that," Bow smiled. "She's been practicing with her mom on how to make her powers stronger. She's been recharging since lunch." 

 _Maybe I should take resting more seriously. If it's making Glimmer stronger, I need to be stronger too._ Adora pushed herself up off the floor. 

"You're not thinking of going somewhere, are you?" Bow asked nervously.

She shook her head. "Nope. I'm staying right here. In fact," Adora made a show of limping to her bed, "I think I'm even going to...lie down." 

Finally, Bow started laughing since they'd brought up the Horde. "Wow, character development." He hopped lightly to his feet, running a hand through his hair. "See you in the morning, Adora." 

When the door to her room shut, Adora wished he hadn't left. With Glimmer too busy to visit her properly and Bow doing...Bow things? She'd been largely on her own for the week since the Horde attacked. 

"Huh. I forgot to ask him what he's been up to," she mused aloud. 

 _Typical Adora. Can't be bothered to ask about anyone but herself._ Her hands wandered to her bandaged back. She couldn't feel them, but Catra's claw marks were etched in to her skin. 

The truth in her old friend's words had hurt way worse than her claws.

Adora turned on her side to face her window. Stars glittered in the sky outside and crickets chirped. 

Something in her chest ached. "Am I a bad friend?" 

Or was it just Catra's infuriating way of getting under her skin? She felt guilty admitting that she didn't know what Bow's involvement in the Rebellion was beyond "Glimmer's Best Friend." 

_Then I'll just ask him tomorrow!_

She drew her blanket up to her chin. In spite of her resolve to reach out to Bow, Adora knew she wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. Again. 

With so much spare time, she found that her thoughts drifted to Catra all too often. 

_She never told me how I made her feel. I never wanted to do that to her._

And now it was too late and Catra was Lord Hordak's Second-in-Command. Even if she could convince Catra to join the Rebellion, she knew she'd never be accepted. 

 _I keep asking her to leave something that makes her feel like she's important._ Adora groaned and turned again, facing a wall. This was a familiar, nightly back-and-forth she had with herself. 

If Catra stayed with the Horde, she could feel powerful and accepted. 

But then they'd fight. And if their last battle was any indication, Catra wasn't playing with her anymore. She wanted Adora dead. 

 _And if Catra leaves the Horde, she's just going to feel miserable because I'm not a good friend to her._ The indignation and hurt in Catra's mismatched eyes were seared in to her memory almost as painfully as the gashes in her back.  _She was right. I never protected her, not when it counted. I made her feel like a sidekick._

A sudden knock on her door startled Adora out of her thoughts. She sat up too quickly—she winced as the bandages shifted against her wounds. "Who is it?" she called. 

No answer. Her heart beat a little faster—was there an intruder in Castle Brightmoon? 

The air in front of her bed warped and shimmered. A moment later, Glimmer materialized at the foot of Adora's bed. 

"Did you really think I'd just walk across the room?" the Princess snorted. 

Adora threw her arms around her neck. "Did Bow tell you I missed you?" 

"Something like that," she breathed, hugging Adora back. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to visit. Frosta goes back to the Kingdom of Snows tomorrow, Perfuma is kind of sticking around indefinitely, and Mermista is staying until everything is over." 

"Did something happen with Frosta?" 

Glimmer pouted at her friend. "I wish. Not really. Still. No, she's just going to fortify her Runestone. She'll be back before we know it," she huffed. 

Adora chuckled. "But, while Frosta's gone, we'll be able to hang out more, right?" 

"Yeah! And if you're not too freaked out about the whole 'Shadow Weaver was stalking me the whole time,' thing we could do another trip to Mystacor."

"Hm, your mom seems pretty set on me resting here," Glimmer's face fell, "But what's the difference between lying down in this bed and lying down on the beach?" Adora grinned.

The Princess of Bright Moon clapped her hands together excitedly. "Wow, character development!" 

Adora punched her arm playfully. "Hey, Glimmer? Could I ask you for a big favor?" 

She nodded, her eyes still glittering with excitement. 

"Well," Adora scratched the back of her head sheepishly, "would you mind sleeping over? I guess I'm still not used to sleeping alone and I've been in my thoughts a lot these past few nights." 

Glimmer smiled warmly. "Of course. Do you want to talk about it?" 

_Yeah, how do I fix my friendship with the Second-in-Command of the Horde so she doesn’t want to kill me on sight?_

Adora shook her head.

"I get it," Glimmer conceded. "Let me get ready for bed, I have so much more gossip about Frosta." The bathroom light across the room came on when Glimmer teleported in front of the sink, toothbrush in hand.


	5. Raid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora gets back in to the swing of things.

“I guess She-Ra helps you heal faster, huh?” Bow dodged low, narrowly missing the swing of Adora’s training sword.

“It’s weird. I didn’t even-“ Adora sidestepped a counter-strike, “-transform. I guess just being near the sword helps.”

“We’ll have to run that by Glimmer’s mom. Maybe she knows something about it? Either way, that’s pretty cool.”

“Don’t run anything by my mom that’ll freak her out!” Glimmer called from her seat on a tree stump.

Nearly a month had passed since the Horde’s attack on Bright Moon. Bow was right—all of Adora’s injuries—except for Catra’s slashes—had healed over. She still felt achy and stiff, but Adora hoped that training would loosen her up again.

It was Bow’s idea to start training in unarmed combat. “If I run out of arrows, I run out of ideas,” he had explained when he asked Adora for help.

Despite his naturally strong physique and dexterity, he usually only lasted seconds before Adora managed to overwhelm him.

“Wow. That was like, four seconds longer than usual,” Glimmer snickered when a low sweep threw Bow off his feet and onto his back.

“Care to step in?” Adora challenged, pointing the blunted weapon at Glimmer. The Princess shook her head quickly.

“You really are getting better,” the warrior offered her hand to Bow. He took it and she pulled him up to his feet. “Wanna tangle with She-Ra next time?”

Bow scoffed, dusting himself off. “Are you insane? No way!”

The warm sun, the thrill of a training exercise, getting away from Castle Brightmoon…

_Today’s been sort of perfect._

The bustle and chatter of a forward camp was like music to Adora’s ears. Soldiers running drills, cadets—squires—fetching supplies, tactical discussions. It was everything she missed about being in the Horde.

_Minus the war crimes and killing innocent people._

With the Whispering Wood largely destroyed, the Kingdom of Bright Moon now shared a vulnerable border with the Crimson Waste and the Fright Zone. Perfuma was working hard to funnel power from her runestone to repair the damage, but it was slow work. The Horde frequently sent raiding parties to prod at and weaken their fortification efforts. Unable to stand being pestered by Adora’s frequent requests to leave Bright Moon, Queen Angella sent out Adora, Bow and Glimmer to help defend Perfuma at the forward camp.

Being so busy had finally pushed her thoughts about Catra to the side. There was work to do.

“Guys, is it me,” Adora beamed, putting her hands on her hips and taking in the scope of the camp, “or is this day just the best?”

Glimmer teleported next to Bow and picked a twig out of his hair. “Uh, I guess so?”

“Just say yes, she’s finally feeling okay again!” Bow whispered out of the side of his mouth.

The mood in the camp shifted dramatically when the requisitions tent suddenly went up in flames.

“You jinxed it, Glimmer!” Bow shot back at Glimmer, already halfway to the tree he had left his bow and quiver resting against.

“Crap,” the Princess said under her breath. She teleported to where soldiers were already dousing the blaze with buckets of water.

“Hey, Adora.”

_Oh fuck._

In the commotion, Adora didn’t even notice Catra sneaking up on her. A solid punch connected with the side of her head and she staggered, her vision flickering.  

Catra twisted her body to wind up another strike when an arrow planted itself at her feet. Her tail lashed wildly to keep her balance.

“Sucker punches are for suckers,” Bow quipped, nocking another arrow.

“Nice one-liner!” Catra hissed, leaping forward and bowling over Adora.

Bow’s shot went wide and Catra was on him in moments.

_“For the Honor of Grayskull!_ ” Adora’s voice rang high and clear. Catra felt the fur on her tail bristle at the flash of light behind her.

“I guess you won’t have matching ‘best friend scars’ after all,” she spat at Bow, reaching around him to grab his arrows out of his quiver and snapping them with a grunt.

“Well, that’s shockingly effective,” the perplexed archer looked desperately to She-Ra. 

“Go! Get a refill before the equipment tent catches on fire too,” she commanded.

Bow disappeared in to the chaos of the camp.

Horde raiders poured in to the camp, wielding shock batons and laser rifles. She-Ra caught a glimpse of Glimmer immediately disabling two armored cadets with a single concussive blast before teleporting in to the thick of battle.

_She’s going to be an amazing general._  

“Looks like it’s just you and me,” none of the usual humor was present in Catra’s voice. Her eyes were narrowed in to furious slits as she circled around She-Ra.

“Looks like it,” She-Ra replied curtly, readying her sword. With a war cry loud enough to rouse the whole Rebellion camp, she charged.

Catra yowled and pounced with her arms stretched, aiming for She-Ra’s face. She quickly swung her sword upwards, forcing Catra to twist her body and miss her strike to avoid being cut.

“Finally taking me seriously, are you?” she wasted no time in launching her second attack. Her kick connected with the flat of She-Ra’s sword, sending a vibration through her arms that made her grit her teeth.

_She’s gotten way stronger._

She-Ra took a step back and shoved her foot in to the ground, kicking sand in to Catra’s eyes. There was no use in fighting fair against her. Adora took advantage of the distraction and bashed the pommel of her sword at Catra’s head.

Her opponent hastily flung up her arms to protect herself, biting back a scream when the blow connected with her forearm. She sprang to the side, the Sword of Protection cleaving the air where she had crouched moments later.

“That’s not very nice!” Catra slashed at She-Ra’s exposed calf, making the warrior wince and take a step back.

The two women circled each other, eyes locked. Catra tensed and made to jump at She-Ra’s face again.

When the warrior raised her sword, Catra dropped in to a slide between She-Ra’s legs instead. She caught both her ankles in her hands and yanked as hard as she could.

_No!_ The Sword of Protection clattered out of She-Ra’s hands and she hit the ground heavily. Her focus broke and she felt the magic in her body disappear.

“That’s more like it,” Catra cried triumphantly. She immediately straddled Adora, pinning her arms underneath her knees before she could retaliate.

“Let me go!” the words felt futile the moment they left her lips. Of course Catra wouldn’t let her go.

Around them, the skirmish raged. The Horde force was small, however, and it became clear that the Rebellion was pushing them back.

“Looks like you’re losing,” Adora observed. She shot Catra a cocky smile. “Not too good at this whole Second-in-Command thing, are you?”

Her taunt twisted Catra’s face in to a grimace of rage. “Better than you would have been!”

_Bad idea_.

She felt Catra’s clawed hands seize her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut and struggled to free herself.

It worked.

_It worked?_

Almost immediately, Catra’s grip loosened. Shocked, Adora looked up at her former friend. Her eyes were wide with terror, staring at something behind the prone warrior that she couldn’t see.

“Catra?”

Her eyes snapped back to Adora, seeming to stare through her. She practically threw herself off her body. Without another word, she fled.

“Adora!” Bow’s voice called. She tore her eyes from Catra’s retreat and over to her friend.

“Are you okay?” he questioned.

“Yeah. Looks like it’s over,” she said.

“Fall back!” Catra commanded from somewhere in the Wood. The Horde forces immediately withdrew. Arrows and spears followed their retreat, but no Rebellion soldiers pursued.

While brief, the attack had been enough to scatter the Rebellion soldiers and destroy some of their supplies.

“Damn it,” she swore. “She just came here to slow us down.”

“This happens almost every week,” Bow explained. “Perfuma makes a little progress, the Horde comes to slow us down, we beat them back. But we lose enough people and supplies every time that the next battle gets harder and harder.” He dropped his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t help you. How did you scare her off?”

Adora put a comforting arm around her friend. “It’s okay. I don’t know. She just…” she trailed off.

_Why did she run?_

There was nothing around them out of the ordinary that could have threatened Catra in to leaving. So why had she fled so quickly?

_Maybe she does still care_. That ache in her chest again. _Maybe she can’t finish me because she doesn’t want to._

This time, Glimmer teleported close enough to Adora for her to yelp. “Adora, Bow! Are you guys alright?”

They both nodded solemnly. The worry on the Princess’ face was replaced by exhaustion. “Good. I need you two to help put everything back in order. We didn’t lose anyone, but our food supplies are almost wiped. Someone needs to go back to the East camp and—”

“I’ll do it,” Adora interrupted. “I’ll go alone. She-Ra doesn’t need back up.”

Glimmer squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”

She hugged them both hastily and flagged down a horse. It would be quicker to take Swift Wind, but he was on strict orders to guard Perfuma and fly her out of harm’s way if necessary. He also greatly enjoyed the flowers she would braid in to his mane.

Adora rode through the devastated camp and felt anger rise in her throat. _If it’s me she has a problem with, no one else needs to suffer._

But she knew it wasn’t just about her. Like it or not, Catra was leading these attacks herself. Lord Hordak had more important things to worry about than raiding parties.

_She said she always knew the Horde was like this. She’s doing this because she wants to._

The ruined Whispering Wood was another reminder of the steep price of Catra’s ambition. For all its frightening magic and twisting pathways, the loss of the forest was a terrible blow to all of Etheria. _If I don’t stop her, nothing will._

Although the nature of Catra’s retreat still tugged at Adora’s curiosity, the damage around her pushed any mushy feelings to the bottom of her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adora only gets to swear once


	6. The Nature of the Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catra's psyche fragments further.

Catra’s tail lashed back and forth, smacking the back of Scorpia’s head while she paced around her quarters.

“Time: noon. Duration of battle: seventeen minutes. Casualties: none,” Scorpia scribbled Catra’s dictation furiously on a piece of paper.

“Result,” Catra paused, her tail resting on top of Scorpia’s head. “Successful,” she said after some thought.

“What happened?” Scorpia asked, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth while she wrote.

“We harassed a Rebellion forward camp, encountered She-Ra, and retreated,” Catra said quickly, her expression sour.

The scribbling of Scorpia’s pen stopped. “She-Ra? It’s been a while.”

“I know.” Catra quickly withdrew her bristling tail and smoothed it hurriedly.

“Anomalies: She-Ra,” Scorpia offered. Catra lunged forward and slapped the pen out of her claws.

“Don’t put that in,” she growled. “Submit the report to Lord Hordak. Now.”

Scorpia’s eyebrows knit together briefly, but she relented. “Yes, Commander.” She gathered the pages of the report clumsily and left Catra alone in her officer’s quarters.

When a few minutes had passed and she was sure Scorpia wouldn’t barge back in to ask a ridiculous question, Catra flopped on to her bed.

“Ugh,” she exhaled raggedly.

_Time: who cares. Duration of battle: too long. Casualties: my ego. Result…_

Catra closed her eyes and let yesterday’s scuffle with Adora replay in her mind.

Just like in her dream(nightmare), she had disarmed Adora and pinned her down. Unlike a dream, however, the Beast had shown up.

Normally(abnormally), the Beast stuck to whispering to her in her sleep-

- ** _glory_ _will be yours when Rebellion blood stains your hands red-_**

**_-one day you will replace Lord Hordak-_ **

**_-the only thing standing in the way of victory is She-Ra-_ **

But the first time she had seen Adora since the Battle of Bright Moon was also the first time she had seen the jet-black panther in the waking world. It had perched above Adora’s head and glared at her with its smoldering red eyes.

_You’re not real._

Catra eyes fluttered open. She half expected to see the Beast’s face instead of the ceiling. There was nothing.

“You’re not real,” she whispered.

“I’m not?” a nasally voice from the door replied.

Catra yelped and sat up abruptly, her ears flat against her head and claws unsheathed.

“And hello to you too, Catra,” Entrapta waved, her head poking around the slightly open door.

She breathed deeply. _One. Two. Don’t yell._ “ _Hello_ , Entrapta,” she forced through clenched teeth.

Unfazed, Entrapta planted herself on top of Catra’s desk. “It’s done.”

Another deep breath. “What’s done?” Catra tried her hardest to smile.

Entrapta snorted. “You know. That analysis on the properties of the Black Garnet?”

 _Some good news at last._ Catra relaxed. “Give me the short, normal-people version,” she ordered, not bothering to leave her bed.

The Princess practically vibrated with excitement while she rattled off more details than Catra cared to listen to.

“-as a Runestone, it seems to govern over corruption-“

“-released only 30 percent of its power during the last test-“

“-gains power from being surrounded by negativity-“

“-amplifies the power of those connected to it at the cost of cognitive and psychological well-being-“

 _So that’s why Shadow Weaver was so strung out all the time._ Catra’s lips curled in to a smile.

“Thank you, Entrapta,” she cut the babbling woman off before her words gave her a headache.

“It also,” she piped, “seems to corrupt the physical form and mental faculties of those most susceptible to its influence.”

“That explains why Shadow Weaver was practically addicted to it. That thing was her lifeline,” Catra muttered darkly.

One of Entrapta’s pigtails stood straight up. “Precisely.”

“Slide the full report under my door when it's finalized. Dismissed.”

“Ha! Like it’d fit. I’ll just leave it on your desk,” Entrapta chuckled, leaving the room without shutting the door.

 ** _Alone together at last_. **Catra jumped, her eyes raking around the room to find the Beast.

It lounged near her desk, sitting where Entrapta had been.

Catra swallowed the lump building in her throat. “What do you want?”

**_What you want. Power._ **

“You want to take over?”

The Beast yawned. **_I want you to take over. Why didn’t you kill Adora at the skirmish?_**

Catra tensed. “She’s still healing, it wasn’t a fair fight,” she sputtered.

The shadowy panther lazily dropped to the floor and stalked towards Catra. **_Liar_. **

“I’m not—” Catra was cut off by the sound of approaching footsteps.

Scorpia burst through the open door, slamming it against the wall. “Oops,” she said apologetically.

“What. Do. You. Want.” The Beast had disappeared.

“Well, since your door was open, I assumed you wanted me to tell you that I turned the report in to Lord Hordak.”

Catra rubbed her face and sighed. “Yeah. Thank you.”

“And, while I’m here,” Scorpia scuttled closer to Catra, “would you maybe want to go down to the mess hall together…” the rest of what she said was replaced by a ringing in Catra’s ears.

The Beast was curling itself around Scorpia’s legs, rubbing its head against her torso. The Force Captain didn’t seem to notice, waving her claws while she kept talking.

**_Ask her about the Black Garnet._ **

“Scorpia,” Catra said almost dreamily. “Tell me about the Black Garnet.”

“I’m guessing that’s a ‘no’ on getting dinner,” Scorpia rested her chin against a claw, looking a little crestfallen.

“Scorpia,” Catra repeated firmly.

“I don’t remember much. I was a child when the Horde came and took over. My mother was closest to it. It made her more powerful than even Shadow Weaver. If she were still around, she could have dried up Salineas if she wanted!” she reminisced fondly.

“So it corrupts everything?” Catra tilted her head.

“Not quite,” Scorpia explained. “More like…it feeds off the corruption around it. And when you ask it, it can put that corruption back out.”

“But it’s dangerous. It has a kind of…will of its own. If you’re not strong enough, it puts some of that corruption back in to you,” she finished grimly.

Catra was silent for a while. The Beast was gone again. She looked directly in to Scorpia’s eyes, making the other woman blush.

“Thanks for the brief. You can leave now. And close the door behind you.”

“Are you okay, Catra?”

Catra laughed shakily. “Don’t question me ever again. Get out.”

Wincing, Scorpia retreated, taking extra care to shut the metal door as gently as she could.

 _If anyone knows how to use the Black Garnet, it's Shadow Weaver._ But where had the disgraced sorceress slunk off to after her promotion? Which far-flung quadrant of the Fright Zone was she cowering in?

Catra sank heavily in to her mattress. The Black Garnet was certainly powerful. And if Entrapta was right, it still had plenty of power left for her to use. But while they had one Runestone, the Rebellion had at least four. Plus She-Ra.

She scowled. The Beast was right. In their last battle, she’d had the upper hand. Why didn’t she finish her?

Was it the way Adora, even defeated, looked at her with that soft pleading in her blue eyes?

Or maybe how warm she felt, pressed beneath her?

 _I just like seeing her squirm_.

**_You are weak for her_. **

_You’re getting predictable. I knew you’d try and get the jump on me while I was thinking about Adora._ Catra frowned. The Beast had appeared at the foot of her bed.

**_You can’t toy with her forever. Sooner or later, you must kill her._ **

_Whatever. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?_

If the Beast could roll its eyes, it certainly would have. **_We must find the fool magician and interrogate her on how she drew her power from the Black Garnet._**

“Yep,” Catra said aloud, springing lightly out of bed and adjusting her headdress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if the narrative around the Beast (which is the same one from her nightmare in Chapter 2) is a little confusing. Criticism and feedback are necessary when writing a story.


	7. Into the Wastes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catra seeks more information on the Black Garnet while Entrapta makes her own discoveries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some pretty heavy theorizing on how things work which will almost certainly become canon-divergent when S2 comes out, but is still very fun to write.

Catra hummed while she walked through the familiar corridors of the Fright Zone. The main sector, where she had grown up, was the seat of power for the Horde. There were other sub-sectors and small bases more or less connected to the main one like a loose hive. The Fright Zone itself was located in the greater area of the Crimson Wastes, the former demesne of Scorpia’s family.

All cadets were taken on a tour through all the sub-sectors. Growing up, Catra had visited the far-flung northern sub-sectors, where the Horde mined for coal and oil, the small shred of coastline territories where the fleet was moored, and the arid cliffs of the southern Wastes. There was little strategic value for the sub-sectors there—mostly it was home to war prisoners and the absolute dregs of the Horde’s ranks. The caves dotting the sheer cliffs of the Waste’s mesas were home to dangerous creatures…and exiles.

_If Shadow Weaver went anywhere, it’s there_. Catra flashed her intricate Second-in-Command’s badge at the Force Captain standing guard outside the hangar. He straightened, saluting her and opening the door to the hangar. “Pick whatever you’d like,” he bowed his head.

She strode to a skiff—light, speedy, mostly silent and easy to drive. _Actually, it’s the only thing I know how to drive._

“Uh, wouldn’t something like the crawler suit your rank a bit better, Commander Catra?” the Force Captain asked.

Her ear twitched in annoyance. “I have no idea how to drive!” she answered, clambering up the skiff.

“Didn’t you attend Force Captain orientation? They covered everything from D-class dreadnoughts to—”

_I’m starting to think Force Captain orientation is just made up_. Catra growled and turned the skiff slowly, pointing it to the open hangar door. She kicked the ignition and the craft lurched forward, quickly gaining speed. If the guard at the door had anything else to say about Force Captain orientation, she didn’t hear it.

The smell of burning oil and smoke gradually faded as the skiff sped over the dry dirt of the Wastes. If she didn’t make any stops, she could reach the southern stretch of the Horde’s territory by the time the sun set. And what better time to find a weaver of shadows than in the dark?

Catra closed her eyes and let herself be for a few moments. The wind in her air and the heat of the sun on her skin put a smile on her face. The speed the small craft flew at exhilarated her—she felt almost child-like in her giddiness. Something so simple hadn’t made her so happy since…

_Adora would have loved this_.

The Beast couldn’t possibly keep up with a skiff, or materialize on a moving object, right? Catra’s brow furrowed. It seemed that her goals aligned with its desires. The only thing they differed on was the method. Did they?

_As long as the Rebellion has Adora, they’re never going to give up. She’s their ace._

But did she even want to defeat the Rebellion? Her eyes brow knit even closer together. Self-reflection was not her strong suit.

Power felt good. Finding her strength after Adora abandoned her felt even better. But if the Horde defeated the Rebellion, what came after? When there were no more battles to be fought, what would she have left?

She’d always known the Horde’s objective was…less than savory. But at least Adora made it easy to swallow. But then she had to go develop ethical standards overnight and leave her.

_If she’d never left, what would we be doing now? This? Fighting in a battle? Would Adora be Commander instead of me?_

_Maybe this is all there is. Getting one over the people who hurt me. Fighting battles, winning glory. But after that’s over, I’m still only going to be…me._

Catra shook her head, trying to shake the thoughts out of her brain. “Ugh, and there are people who think like, all the time?”

She forced her mind away from her long-term goals and to the short-term: Shadow Weaver.

The memory of the sorceress’ pathetic wails still lulled her to sleep like nothing else. After years of enduring her torture, seeing her mask crack and chasing her out of the Fright Zone like she’d tried to do the same to her so many times galvanized Catra.

Still, she was a talented sorceress. It was hard to know where her own power ended and the Black Garnet’s began—she would need to approach carefully. An ambush would only push Shadow Weaver in to a corner and make her more dangerous. Catra frowned.

As much as she cringed at the idea, a diplomatic approach would be the best way to coax the information she needed out of the former Second-in-Command.

Her tail lashed. Being nice to Shadow Weaver? To get information out of her?

“What’s next, promoting Kyle to Force Captain?” she snickered, pulling at the rudder of the skiff to turn it gently. The landscape of the Crimson Waste was dramatic—the skiff raced alongside the edge of a steep cliff. Below and beyond, as far as Catra could see, the Wastes were a barren badlands of jutting pillars of rock and scorched dirt.

“Man, I wish I’d brought some cards or something,” she sighed. The novelty of being away from the Fright Zone and her responsibilities had quickly worn off. The sun was only just starting to inch lower in the sky. It would be hours before she arrived at the sub-sector.

She almost wished the Beast would materialize, then firmly changed her mind. “It only ever has one thing to say: kill Adora.” She locked the rudder and sat down heavily, resting her chin on her palm. She had a long way to go.

* * *

 

Entrapta excitedly tapped away at her terminal. For someone who was technically a prisoner of war, the Horde had accommodated her very generously, with access to almost all of their records and personnel files.

The only thing the Horde couldn’t seem to get right was tiny food. She pouted at the normal-sized glass of “fizzy water” Scorpia brought her. Not even a straw. She had to curl her hair around it and tilt it in to her mouth. She shuddered and turned her focus back to the monitor.

When Catra and Adora captured Glimmer and stole Adora’s sword, she naturally took it for closer examination. If there was one fault to Adora, it’s that she was so protective of such a valuable piece of First One’s technology.

Her brief analysis of the weapon nearly overwhelmed Entrapta with new information. The alloy the blade was made of, for example: nearly all First One’s weapons and armor were made of it, and it closely resembled steel. But the methods to making it were lost. The metal itself was insanely durable, could hold its edge indefinitely, and would never corrode.

“Imagine if you were made of that stuff, Emily!” she said excitedly. The robot stirred and beeped almost sleepily. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t notice you were asleep.”

Then there was the matter of the Sword’s transformative properties, and its use a magical conduit: reports from Horde soldiers confirmed that Adora had been able to turn the Sword in to a shield, and that she could fire focused blasts of magic from the blade.

Entrapta abhorred the explanation that everyone offered for these feats: “magic.” “Magic” was the source for every little extraordinary event or display of power. Even after her discoveries in to the grid-like features of the whole dang _planet_ , everyone referred to Etheria as being “magical.”

Well, Entrapta wasn’t working with magic. She had no Runestone and, supposedly, no real “magic” beyond being able to use her hair as an extra set of hands.

But what was technology if not “magic”? The two were intertwined, or in her belief—one and the same.

If logic and math could yield incredible invention and innovation, Entrapta could definitely figure out the mystery of Adora’s Sword of Protection.

Like: what was the purpose of the red gem in the hilt of the sword?

“The First Ones certainly enjoyed their aesthetic flairs, but weapons are practical objects,” she muttered, opening a digital archive on the Horde’s observations of the Black Garnet.

“They were using it as a _battery_?” she nearly fell out of her seat. What a waste!

Oh. Something good—a whole set of reports written by Shadow Weaver. Even though she was frightening and had frozen Entrapta (how did that even work?), she was undeniably smart for a sorceress.

She leaned in excitedly and opened the first report. “Oh, gross.”

It was less of a report and more of a long _love letter_ to the Black Garnet. Praising its power, describing its beauty…useless for anything except a study on total madness.

She clicked through the reports, scrolling past paragraphs that were littered with words and phrases like “magnificent,” “scarlet-tinged glory,” and “the source of the power of my mask”—

Hold on.

Entrapta re-read the paragraph, trying not to cringe at the egregious purple prose.

**Years ago I did the unthinkable—I cut a piece of the Black Garnet with a high-powered laser. The laser and the cadet operating it were immediately disintegrated by the Black Garnet: I do not blame her. She must have thought it insolent. I took the piece, which still sang with the greater jewel’s power. I had it cast in to a mask, which I now wear to hide my face. No sorceress of Mystacor will know my face and guess my weaknesses now.**

**The mask, and me, are now imbued with fantastic power. My abilities have been heightened, my intellect feels more keen, and I can cast spells with nearly no limit. Lord Hordak will be most pleased to know his Commander is so capable.**

**The only downside is that the fragment yearns for its mother. Nightly, I find myself returning to the Black Garnet. When I stand close to it, the fragment ceases its pull. This is a small price to pay for the boons I have reaped. I do not mind spending more time with the Black Garnet.**

Entrapta’s eyes widened and the wheels of her mind spun.

A Runestone could be destroyed: anything could. That was obvious.

Discovery: a Runestone could be cut. At great cost and risk to one’s health and life.

Discovery: the fragment of a Runestone could be worked in to objects.

Discovery: the power of that fragment could amplify the user’s abilities.

“EMILY!” Entrapta shouted. The robot immediately whirred to life, skittering excitedly to its creator.

She gleefully pet the top of Emily’s “head” with a tendril of her hair. “I’ve made an incredible discovery. Log date: fifth week in the Fright Zone. Status: overjoyed,” she breathed heavily. “By studying previous reports on the Black Garnet, I have made a serious breakthrough in to the nature of a powerful piece of First One’s technology.”

Entrapta paused for dramatic effect. A rare luxury in her log recordings.

“Adora’s ‘Sword of Protection,’ which lets her alter her physical form in to ‘She-Ra,’ is powered by what is _very_ likely a fragment of a Runestone. End log.”

She gasped. Catra and Scorpia were going to love this new theory—they always showed a heartwarming level of interest in what she had to say.

* * *

 

“Fill it up and clean the sand out of the rudder,” Catra rumbled at a terrified cadet.

The sub-sector was even worse than what she remembered. The airfield was manned only by the cadet fumbling with a long gas hose. No sign of a Force Captain or any other kind of leadership.

There were a few scattered, dilapidated buildings, including a barracks with more broken windows than there were grains of sand in the whole Crimson Wastes.

“Cadet,” she said sharply. The young man almost dropped the hose and shakily answered, “Yes, Commander!”

Catra looked beyond the airfield to the backdrop of a tall, wide mesa dotted with holes. “Has a sorceress with a cracked mask been by here, lately?”

She heard his gulp through his helmet. “Y-yes, Commander. She passed through the sub-sector two weeks ago to raid our requisitions and hide in the caves.”

Catra’s lips curled in to a smile. _Descending in to petty theft? How unlike you._ “Good. When you’re finished with the skiff, report to your Force Captain and let them know you’ve been reassigned to the Fright Zone’s main sector,” she purred.

“Thank you, Commander!” he attacked the hose with renewed zeal, almost dousing the skiff with gasoline before he found the cap to the fuel tank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catra doesn't like sand. It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere.


End file.
